The Idler in France

by Countess of Marguerite Blessington

The interesting countenance of this fine youth, as I lately saw it, haunts me. Beaming with affection towards his mother and sister, and with gratitude towards his friends, it was pleasant to behold it; and now,—how fearful is the change produced in so brief a space! That bereaved mother and fond sister will never more look on that face so dear;—before the fatal intelligence can have reached them, he will have been consigned to the grave, and will owe to a stranger those last rites which they little dream are now performing.

The number of persons killed during the last three days has excited much less interest in my feelings than the death of this poor youth. I cannot picture to my mind's eye any other distinct image among the slain. They present only a ghastly mass, with all the revolting accompaniments of gaping wounds and blood-stained garments, I never saw them in life,—knew not the faces that will be steeped in tears, or convulsed in agony at their deaths; but this poor boy, so young, so fair, and so beloved, and his fond mother and gentle sister seem ever to stand before me!

I remember reading, long years ago, the example given of a person recounting all the details of a great battle, in which hundreds were slain, and the listeners hearing the account unmoved, until the relater described one individual who had been killed, and drew a vivid picture, when those who had heard of the death of hundreds without any deeper emotion than general pity, were melted to tears. This is my case, with regard to the poor young page, cut off in the morning of his life; for, having his image present to my mind, his death seems more grievous to me than that of hundreds whom I have never seen.

30th.—The last news is, that the Dauphin has been named Generalissimo, that he has placed himself at the head of the vast body of troops that still adhere to their allegiance, and that he is to advance on Paris. This determination has been adopted too late, and can now, in my opinion, avail but little.

Comte d'O—— has just returned from seeing the last sad duties paid to the remains of the poor young page. He brings the intelligence that the royal family left St.-Cloud last night, and are now at Versailles. This step proves that they consider their case hopeless. Unhappy Bourbons! a fatality seems to impend over the race; and Charles the Tenth appears doomed to die, as he has lived the greater portion of his life, in exile. The absence of the Dauphine at this eventful period has been peculiarly unfortunate for her family; for, with her firmness of character and promptitude of decision, her counsel might have served, while her presence would have given an impetus to, their cause.

I have just seen ——, who told me, that on the King's departure for Versailles he left the Dauphin in command of the troops that still adhered to their allegiance, and that the Prince placed himself at the head of a battalion of the garde royale, charged the enemy on the Pont de Sèvres, and took possession of it; but the troops, with the exception of a few officers, refused to follow, and left him to receive the fire of the insurgents, which it is wonderful that he escaped. With what feelings must he have bent his course to Versailles, deserted by troops on whom he had bestowed so many favours and acts of munificence, to meet his sovereign and father, with the sad news of their revolt!

I have just had the gratifying intelligence that the Duchesse de Guiche and her children reached St.-Germain's in safety. This is a great relief to my mind. The royal arms on the carriage, and the liveries, were recognised at the Barrière, and the populace crowded around, many of them expressing their dissatisfaction at beholding these memorials of a family so lately respected, if not beloved. It had been represented to the Duchesse, previously to her leaving Paris, that she ran no inconsiderable risk in venturing out with the royal arms on her carriage;[9] but she declared that she would not consent to their being effaced. She courageously, and with a calm dignity, addressed the angry crowd, explained her sentiments and feelings to them in a few brief words, and they, won by her beauty and noble bearing, even perhaps still more than by her courage (though intrepidity has always a peculiar charm for Frenchmen), cheered her, and suffered the carriage to proceed unmolested.

July 30th.—I am again alarmed for the safety of the Duchesse de Guiche. The populace having yesterday assembled at the Place St.-Germain, in which is the residence of her father-in-law, the Duc de Gramont, they evinced so hostile a feeling towards all attached to the royal family, that a friend, becoming apprehensive of violence, scaled the wall of the garden, and entering the house, implored the Duchesse, ere it was yet too late, to seek safety by flight.

Alarmed for her children—for this noble-minded woman is a stranger to personal fear—she sought refuge with them in the Forest of St.-Germain, in the Château du Val, the abode of the Princesse de Poix, where she experiences all the kindness and hospitality which her amiable hostess can practise, in order to soothe the anxiety of her guest.

What a change in the position of the Duchesse, and in so brief a space! A fugitive in that forest where, every year during the Fête des Loges, she dispensed kindness to the poor, and amiability to all, doing the honours of the Duc de Gramont's house, where her condescension and goodness were the themes of every tongue! And now, harassed in mind and body, terrified for the safety of her husband, who is with the royal family, and for her two eldest sons, who are in their college, in the Rue St.-Marceau, which is rendered inaccessible, owing to the barricades.